


Undone

by Neyiea



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Switching, never-sprayed Jeremiah, they love each other so much :')
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Racy companion pieces toLockdown
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 53
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to keep Lockdown and Unlocked 'T' to make them more accessible, so this is really just where I can separately put the loving smut that I cannot help but want to write of these two, lol. There's going to be a chronological progression of sorts, so chapters will get a bit more explicit as time passes. We'll see whether or not they get explicit enough that I feel the need to up to an 'E' rating, I guess. It's pretty tame for now.
> 
> If you've not read Lockdown and are just here for the smut--Jeremiah didn't fall into Jerome's trap, he and Bruce have worked on the generators, and they fall madly in love with each other--that's the gist of it. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> xoxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The generators have gone live. Bruce and Jeremiah celebrate, then they celebrate again.

Bruce wakes up to the feeling of Jeremiah’s breath on his neck and the weight of one of Jeremiah’s arm splayed overtop of his back. It makes his skin tingle pleasantly, and he smiles into the pillow.

They had kissed a lot last night after leaving the party behind. On the street, in the car, on Jeremiah’s front doorstep. Jeremiah’s hands had occasionally drifted up underneath Bruce’s newly untucked dress shirt, warm fingers skimming across the small of Bruce’s back in a way that made Bruce’s breath catch. He’d meant to go back to the manor, really, but when Jeremiah offered an invitation to stay the night he couldn’t bear to refuse it.

They’d kissed even more after they’d settled into bed—Bruce once again in a spare set of Jeremiah’s pajamas, though he felt less self-conscious about it this time around—wet and open-mouthed, lacking some finesse but making up for it with passion. At one point Jeremiah had gripped tightly onto Bruce’s hips, and Bruce had a fleeting thought that he was about to pull the waistband down.

Heat roiled within him at the mere suggestion of it. 

But Jeremiah’s kisses had turned softer, lingering in a way that made Bruce’s eyelashes flutter. The flicker of something burning abated to the usual, steady warmth that resided inside of Bruce’s chest. They eventually fell asleep wrapped up in each other, and now… 

Jeremiah is so warm, so close, so impossible to ignore. Bruce, laying on his belly and thinking about the previous night, feels himself getting hard.

He flushes, burying his face further into the pillow and trying not to move. This isn’t unusual for him; he’s still young enough to occasionally get turned on at frankly inconvenient times, but he and Jeremiah have managed to sleep together, in the literal sense, several instances without Bruce getting overexcited about anything. 

Jeremiah sighs against his neck, moves a little closer. Bruce shivers, bites his lip, and shifts.

He’s not wearing underwear, so his half hard cock drags directly against the inside of his borrowed cotton pants. More heat bubbles up inside of him as he thinks about Jeremiah’s bare skin grazing against the same fabric, as he thinks about whether or not Jeremiah’s ever gotten hard in these pants, as he thinks about precum from Jeremiah’s dick soaking the front.

His hips twitch. His breath catches.

As he thinks about _his boyfriend’s dick_. They haven’t quite made it to heavy petting through clothes—just fleeting touches that are light enough that they’re both left wondering if it was accidental or on purpose—but Bruce is too stimulated to care about having to make a few educated guesses in his fantasies.

Jeremiah, he thinks as he subtly rubs more firmly against the mattress. Jeremiah, he bites his lip harder to hold back a whine. Jeremiah, he spreads his legs further apart, feeling hot and fluttery and _close_ even though it’s only been a handful of minutes since he woke up. 

Jeremiah’s breathing has gone awfully shallow.

That’s the only warning Bruce gets before the arm settled across his back moves to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“Bruce?” Jeremiah’s voice is rough with sleep and, fuck, Bruce can’t seem to stop grinding against the mattress even as his hidden face burns with embarrassment. “Bruce, are you—?” Bruce can feel him move, twisting to lay on his side. Bruce can’t feel his breath anymore, but the rush of air that he can hear leaving Jeremiah’s mouth leaves him shuddering anyways. “Bruce.” Jeremiah’s voice may be soft, but it commands his attention like nothing else. Jeremiah’s hand begins to press into his curls, a gentle encouragement to stop hiding. “Can you look at me?”

Bruce allows his head to turn. He feels lewd and immature, rutting against Jeremiah’s sheets like he’s some kind of desperate adolescent, but the heat in Jeremiah’s gaze stops him from feeling too embarrassed about it.

There’s a flush across his cheeks. He looks so good. Bruce loves him so much.

“You’re beautiful,” Jeremiah tells him, gazing at Bruce as if he’s doing something amazing. It makes a new heat curl tightly inside of him, compressing into something that’s waiting to explode. “Are you close?”

Bruce nods, feeling even hotter as Jeremiah’s hand drags down his spine, firmly settling on the small of his back. The tips of his fingers slide in underneath both the sleep-shirt and the cotton waistband. 

His toes start curling.

“Kiss me,” Bruce breathes, “Please?”

The press of Jeremiah’s lips against his is electric, and Bruce’s mouth falls open as he comes. Jeremiah’s hand, firm and warm and wonderful on his bare skin, presses him further down into the mattress as he shudders. Eventually he is not kissing so much as he is heavily breathing against Jeremiah’s mouth, not that Jeremiah seems to mind the temporary loss of whatever skill he does have. 

He shifts onto his side—to facilitate easier kissing more than anything else—and both of Jeremiah’s warm hands cup his face as he licks into Bruce’s mouth before his kisses turn chaste, just as they had the night before.

Bruce lays one hand over top of Jeremiah’s own, sighing in contentment as Jeremiah’s lips fall away so that he can press their foreheads together.

“Good morning,” Jeremiah greets under his breath belatedly. A soft puff of laughter escapes Bruce’s mouth.

“Good morning,” he echoes. 

They lean in to each other again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah sleeps over at the manor. He can’t stop thinking about what Bruce had looked like when he’d asked Jeremiah to kiss him while he was rutting against the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given these two such hair-triggers for each other, but that's just because I'm living my best author's life. And also because these two have a lot of fumbling around to do cause I cannot imagine either of them (especially in this AU) being proficient in this sort of thing, lol. They're having a good time with each other and that's what matters.

Technically Jeremiah has his own dedicated room for whenever he stays over at the manor, and technically he uses it—as storage for anything that he might have brought over during his visits. Bruce always invites him to spend the night in his room, though, and Jeremiah would never deny him something that they both obviously wanted. 

Usually they whisper under their breath, hold hands, drift closer. They might share a soft kiss or two before settling down and when they wake up in the morning—just as close as they had been when they’d fallen asleep—they’ll nestle against each other for a few quiet minutes before dragging themselves out of bed. 

That hadn’t been what happened the last time they’d shared a bed in Jeremiah’s bunker.

Jeremiah feels his heart start to race just thinking about it. He’d woken up, perfectly at ease, and had quickly noticed the rhythmic shifting of Bruce’s body no matter how slight it had been.

Jeremiah had pulled back to gaze upon him. Had settled a hand against the small of Bruce’s back. Had kissed him as Bruce made a mess in his borrowed pajama pants. 

He’d touched himself to thoughts of it—to thoughts of doing more—nearly as soon as Bruce had left. He’d wondered about what it would have been like to urge Bruce onto his back and pull down the waistband of pants. He’d wondered how red Bruce would turn if Jeremiah’s fingers had skimmed over his hot skin. He’d wondered what kind of sounds would fall from Bruce mouth if Jeremiah had kissed him where he was undoubtedly aching. 

He quietly steps into Bruce’s dimly lit room and he can’t help but feel keyed up. Anticipation simmers under his skin even though Bruce hadn’t insinuated that they’d be doing anything beyond what Jeremiah has come to fondly think of as their usual nighttime routine together.

Bruce glances up at him from where he’s sitting on the bed, still above the covers, and Jeremiah feels drawn towards him just as much as ever. He seats himself beside him, hands bracing against the bed on either side of Bruce’s hips, and leans down to kiss him.

Bruce wraps his arms around his shoulders. Bruce begins laying back. Jeremiah follows after him—because he would always follow after him—and instead of twisting himself to the side, as he might have done if he weren’t already so excited, he settles himself over top of Bruce, hands raising up to either side of Bruce’s shoulders in order to support his weight. He can feel Bruce shift underneath him, can feel his legs drift apart as if he means to make a space for Jeremiah to rest there, and the simmering anticipation increases to a boil.

“Bruce, can I touch you?” He presses a kiss to Bruce’s cheek, to his temple, to the corner of his mouth. He moves his knees, one at a time, to settle between Bruce’s open thighs. He tries not to seem over-eager, but it’s very difficult when Bruce is right here, underneath him, his breath brushing against Jeremiah’s warm face.

“Yes,” Bruce tells him, and his fingers briefly twist in Jeremiah’s hair to pull him down for another kiss. His mouth falls open, and Jeremiah takes the opportunity to deepen it. When they part again Bruce’s lips are puffy and slick, and Jeremiah is incredibly aware of just how lucky he is to be able to see him like this.

“Thank you,” he says as he pulls back, kneeling between Bruce’s legs with no small amount of reverence. His fingers skim down his shoulders, across his chest, down his abdomen. Bruce’s breath hitches when Jeremiah’s fingers drag underneath his sleep shirt, rucking the fabric up several inches. Bruce murmurs something soft and lovely when Jeremiah leans down to lay several kisses across bared skin that he’d never gotten the chance to press his lips to, prior to this. 

Slowly, adoringly, Jeremiah’s hand drags further down. He watches Bruce’s face as he trails further, further, until his palm is laid flush against him. He can feel the heat of Bruce through the fine layer of fabric, he can feel Bruce roll up against his hand, he can feel Bruce getting hard as his own blood begins to rush.

Bruce locks eyes with him, flushed but fearless, and Jeremiah wants so badly to _see_ as well as touch. Maybe its greedy of him to ask for so much at once, but the heart wants what it wants.

“Can I see you?” The fingers of his free hand skim along the skin of Bruce’s hip. He rocks his palm against Bruce’s cock and waits until Bruce nods.

“Thank you,” he breathes again. “If you want—” He starts as he digs his fingers into the fabric that separates them. “If you want,” he repeats as he begins to drag it down. “You can touch me, too.”

“Miah.” Bruce reaches out to take his face in his hands. He leans up for a kiss, and when he retreats he does not lay flat on the bed, instead supporting himself on his elbows. The pants are already low on his hips and Jeremiah’s devoted eyes cannot seem to tear away from the trail of dark hair that urges his eyes further downward. Bruce lifts his lower body, and the pants quickly slide partway down his thighs.

Even more heat sparks inside of him.

“Gorgeous,” he says, laying a bare hand against Bruce’s bare skin. Wrapping his fingers around him. Bruce is warm and stiff against his palm, and it’s titillating enough to be touching him so intimately that Jeremiah feels his own cock harden further. He looks up at Bruce’s face—his red cheeks, his glimmering eyes, his pearly teeth digging into his full bottom lip—and slowly begins to move his hand. The slide of skin on skin has Bruce’s mouth falling open, and Jeremiah can’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss him; again and again, more and more, deeper and deeper as his hand picks up speed.

One of Bruce’s hands fumbles along his hip, drifting towards the center of his body until Bruce’s slender fingers are wrapping around him through cotton. 

“Oh,” he sighs, hips jerking. “Oh, yes, like that. Just like that,” he pants against Bruce’s mouth. “I love your hands, love your mouth, love everything about you.” He feels slickness against his fingers, and God, he wants to make Bruce come. “Darling, I love you so much.”

“Jeremiah,” Bruce keens, digging his heels into the bed to rock up against Jeremiah. His hand flutters away, just for a moment, before it’s urgently pulling down the front of Jeremiah’s pajama pants to expose him.

A gust of air escapes Jeremiah's lungs as Bruce’s fingers wrap around him.

“You make me feel so good, Bruce.” His hips thrust further into Bruce’s hand, his fingers curl tighter. He feels wound up in the best way. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

“You are, you are,” Bruce tells him. He leans up to press messy, uncoordinated kisses around Jeremiah’s mouth. “I love you, I love you.”

Jeremiah kisses him, and Bruce’s entire body trembles as he comes in Jeremiah’s fist. The sounds he makes, the way his shaking fingers clench around Jeremiah’s cock, the wet kisses that Jeremiah cannot help but return, the dreamy way he whispers Jeremiah’s name—it’s all enough for him to spill seconds afterwards.

He slumps against Bruce, feeling wonderfully slack and unwound. His hand, not the one slick with Bruce’s cum—slick with his cum, slick with his cum, Jeremiah’s mind whirls delightedly—fumbles for the box of tissue that he’d seen on Bruce’s bedside table.

“You were perfect,” he tells Bruce as he cleans them both up, a task which he accepts with relish. He drags a fresh tissue in between each of Bruce’s fingers before presses a kiss to his palm, watching him and feeling the best kind of contentment. 

“So were you,” Bruce tells him. He lays a hand against Jeremiah’s cheek to guide him closer.

And, as always, Jeremiah follows him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really had started off as just kissing in Jeremiah’s kitchen.
> 
> Neither of them minds how much farther they end up going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have just done an actual trifecta of updates today, wow. I'm so proud of myself. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hands twist into his hair, thighs brace against the outside of his hips, he can’t tell if he managed to lift Bruce onto the counter or if Bruce jumped just as Jeremiah’s hands on his waist began to push him up.

He settles between Bruce’s open legs. He feels Bruce’s cock bump against his stomach as he gets as close as he can. His breath catches.

Bruce had brought his own pajamas the night before, but he’d ended up borrowing a set of Jeremiah’s once again—probably noticing just how much Jeremiah liked it when Bruce wore his sleep clothes—and seeing him like that as Jeremiah was pulling what he needed to make coffee out of his cupboards was so reminiscent of their first morning together that Jeremiah couldn’t _not_ kiss him.

Couldn’t seem to stop kissing him, either. Not that Bruce had been any different once it became obvious that Jeremiah’s attention wasn’t going to shift back to making their morning coffee any time soon. One of his hands had settled on the small of Jeremiah’s back, his fingers slipping underneath fabric to rest directly in skin, and Jeremiah’s roving hands had urgently settled on his waist.

Bruce’s legs fold tightly around him. Bruce’s hands start persistently shifting up the worn shirt that Jeremiah had gone to bed in. Jeremiah allows it to be pulled over his head and Bruce’s eyes drift over his bared chest in a way that makes his heart race.

“You’re stunning,” Bruce tells him, fingers skimming up Jeremiah’s sides. His thumbs brush over Jeremiah’s nipples, and Jeremiah can’t tell if it’s because he’s sensitive or if it’s because Bruce is touching him somewhere that not even he’s ever paid particular attention to, but he feels himself flush as the skin pebbles. Bruce notices, of course—he notices so many things, he’s always so observant. Jeremiah loves that about him, but then, he loves everything about him—and his hands drift down from Jeremiah’s collar bones to lightly pinch them between his slender fingers. Jeremiah’s exhalation is a shudder, and Bruce’s eyes go dark.

“Jeremiah,” he leans in to press kisses along Jeremiah’s shoulder, and then his mouth begins to drift down. “Can I—would you rather we not go too far in the kitchen? I want…” He presses a kiss to Jeremiah’s sternum, his nails scratch against Jeremiah’s chest in a way that makes him break out into goosebumps. “I want to touch you.”

Relocating means having to stop and, even if it would only be a minute or two to get back to Jeremiah’s bedroom, that is the exact opposite of what he wants right now.

“We can keep going,” Jeremiah tells him, one hand cupping the back of Bruce’s neck, the other arm folding around his shoulders. “I like it when you touch me.”

Bruce glances up, expression soft and sweet as he presses a kiss to the underside of Jeremiah’s jaw, and then his attention darts back down.

He unhurriedly laves his tongue against Jeremiah’s nipple. At the same time one of his hands slips inside of Jeremiah’s pants to graze the hair at the base of his cock.

“Oh,” Jeremiah curls around him, holding Bruce a little tighter as Bruce parts his lips and sucks the skin into his mouth. More heat swiftly pools within him. Bruce’s teeth graze against him and he jolts, fingers spasming. “Oh,” he says again, not entirely surprised at his reaction—this was Bruce, after all. Jeremiah is sure he would love anything that Bruce did to him, would love any way that Bruce touched him. “I like that.”

“Good,” Bruce murmurs, pressing a few more wet kisses on spit-slick skin before his attention drifts to the other side. “I like making you feel good, Miah.” His hand curls around Jeremiah’s cock. He starts stroking. His mouth latches around Jeremiah’s other nipple, sucking firmly for a moment before he draws back to blow cool air across the wetness left by his mouth. Jeremiah bites his lip and thrusts into his hand. “I love knowing that I’m the one responsible for it.”

“Me too,” Jeremiah manages, voice strangled as Bruce’s teeth graze against him again. Sparks light up underneath his skin, pressure begins to build, Bruce’s thumb presses against the wet head of his cock in a way that nearly punches the air out of Jeremiah’s lungs. “I love that, too. Knowing that I can satisfy you—” His breath hitches, his muscles tense, Bruce rolls the nipple currently not being worshipped by his mouth between the fingers of his free hand. Bruce’s hair tickles his throat, and Jeremiah wishes he could kiss him almost as much as he doesn’t think he could bear if Bruce stopped. “Seeing what I can do to you. I want to make you feel good all the time.”

“You do,” Bruce tells him, breathing heavily. Jeremiah wonders if he’s getting even more excited from the act of pleasing him, and the idea makes him feel like swooning. “Maybe not always like this, but you make me feel good every day.” He presses another kiss to the underside of Jeremiah’s jaw. When he leans back down he bites gently, and his fingers pinch hard, and his hand grips Jeremiah perfectly tight. Jeremiah’s so close already, Bruce seems to know exactly how to wind him up. “Even before all of this, even before we got together, you meant so much to me. You always make me so happy.”

“Bruce.” Jeremiah folds tightly around him. “I love you.”

It’s not long after then that he rocks against Bruce as he starts coming, hands scrabbling at his head and shoulders, pulling him up so that Jeremiah can kiss him properly. He shifts and sighs and shudders against him, drawing back to look at his dark eyes, his slick mouth, his flushed face. Bruce’s hand slips out if his pants and—maybe without over-thinking it, maybe feeling that it was a natural progression, maybe not realizing how crazy it would drive his devoted partner in all things—he brings his fingers up to his mouth and his tongue darts out to lick them—brief and experimental and so unknowingly erotic.

Jeremiah—

—remembers watching Bruce rut against his bed. Remembers how beautiful he’d been. Remembers how much he’d wanted to touch him. Remembers how much he’d wanted to kiss him where he was aching the most—

—settles his hands on Bruce’s waist again, urging him forward off of the countertop. As soon as Bruce’s feet touch the floor Jeremiah drops to his knees, not caring at the slight discomfort it causes him, not caring how he’s so excited that his hands are shaking, not caring that both of Bruce’s hands weave into his hair to leave sticky traces of Jeremiah’s cum in the strands, not caring about anything but pulling Bruce’s pajama pants down and getting his mouth on him.

“Bruce,” he rasps, fingers urgently hooking into the waistband. “I want you in my mouth.” This was several steps further than Jeremiah had thought might happen when they’d started kissing a quarter of an hour ago, but the idea has lodged itself firmly into his head and he doesn’t think he could get rid of it even if he tried. Not that he wants to try. “Is that okay?” 

“Yes,” Bruce answers, flushed face going darker, voice cracking. His finger twitch against Jeremiah’s scalp, and Jeremiah can’t resist pressing a quick kiss to the skin just below his bellybutton before his fingers finally tug the pants down.

Bruce gasps as Jeremiah wraps a hand around the base of his cock. His fingers twist, like he’s trying to stop himself from pushing Jeremiah where they both want him to go. “Miah,” he says as Jeremiah opens his mouth to drag his tongue against the head. Jeremiah feels fluttery and warm, on his knees before Bruce like this, he thinks if he hadn’t just come he’d get hard again. He presses a kiss to one of Bruce’s hipbones. He drags his hand over him once, twice. He pulls back and looks up at Bruce—beautiful, perfect, wonderful Bruce who Jeremiah loves more than anything else in the world—and neither of them brake the gaze as Jeremiah leans in to take the head of his cock into his mouth.

Bruce makes a soft sound low in his throat. Bruce’s hands twist tighter in his hair. Bruce’s hips make aborted little movements, like he’s trying to hold himself back from driving further inside. 

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Jeremiah thinks, intoxicated by the sight and feel and taste of him. He takes Bruce deeper, lips stretching around him, tongue messily running against him, until he doesn’t think he could go any further without choking.

Something for him to work on improving, he thinks dizzily. He draws back, tongue eagerly dragging around Bruce—he’s so hot and hard, and it’s all because of Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s never going to get over what it feels like to be the one who turns Bruce on—sealing his lips around him and sucking. Bruce curses softly, his hands start shaking, he’s trying so hard not to fuck into Jeremiah’s mouth.

Jeremiah moans, thinking about what that would be like. Thinking about the weight of Bruce pressing inside of him, filling him up in a way that Jeremiah’s never experienced before. He draws Bruce in deeper. Bruce’s reactions; the way he’s murmuring Jeremiah’s name over and over and over, is so heady that Jeremiah’s fluttering thoughts fixate on when they can do this again—

—He could wake Bruce up with his mouth like this. He could kneel in front of him in Bruce’s home office like this. He could take Bruce into his shower once they were done and after they’d cleaned each other up he could do this all over again while their skin was still slick and warm from the water. Bruce’s fingers digging into his hair. Bruce’s body thrumming under his hands like a live wire. He’d happily fall on his knees for Bruce, he’d happily do anything for Bruce—

“I’m close,” Bruce says, voice hoarse. Jeremiah’s mind whirls.

—and Bruce, he loved touching Jeremiah just as much as Jeremiah loved touching him. It wouldn’t be long until he’d want to reciprocate. Jeremiah thinks of it, feeling feverish. His wet, kiss-bruise mouth falling open to accept something far more sensitive than Jeremiah’s tongue—

Bruce keens, curling over Jeremiah just like Jeremiah had curled over him. His cum paints warm swatches against Jeremiah’s mouth and cheeks, and Jeremiah’s heart thunders in his chest at the sight that he makes. 

Bruce doesn’t want to be a face that launched a thousand ships, and Jeremiah doesn’t plan on launching any ships in his name. Changing Gotham, changing the world, changing everything…

He’d happily do that with Bruce working alongside him.

Bruce’s fists eventually unclench, and he runs his fingers gently through Jeremiah’s hair as they both fight to catch their breath.

Jeremiah’s tongue drifts over his bottom lip—it’s salty and gluey, but it’s also from _Bruce_ so he is incapable of disliking it—and Bruce’s expression flickers in a way that makes Jeremiah want to do something even more drastic.

They’d definitely have to do this again.

Soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce shows Jeremiah around Wayne Enterprises. Something starts, and gets put on hold, and starts up again the following evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, these two. What a pair they make.

“Do you like it?” Bruce asks him, the smallest hints of unease showcasing themselves in the particular way that he folds his fingers together. “I know you still plan to work from your bunker, but I thought it might be nice for you to have your own space if you ever did need to be here.”

The room itself isn’t important—although the framed blueprints on the walls are a thoughtful touch that Jeremiah isn’t surprised by—but the fact that it is right next to what is technically now Bruce’s office, is. Even if Jeremiah never comes in here to work, and even if Bruce only spends time within the building when his presence is absolutely necessary, the knowledge that Bruce had made a space for him right beside himself makes him feel warm.

“I love it,” he says with complete honesty.

“Good,” Bruce sighs. He reaches out to Jeremiah, fingers grazing underneath his chin, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. “I locked the door as we came in,” he says casually, as if he’s talking about the weather and not something that makes Jeremiah’s heart immediately start to race. He presses a kiss to Jeremiah’s other cheek. “And these walls are very-well insulated.” His lips are next, and Jeremiah leans into him eagerly. “No one wants the noise of downtown to distract them as they work.”

“Have you been thinking about this during the entire tour, Bruce?” Jeremiah isn’t nearly put together enough to feign either formality or disinterest. He feels delighted laughter bubbling up inside of him. “Do you sometimes sit in your office next door after you’ve finished your meetings and reviews and think about what you’d do if I were within such easy reach of you?”

“Yes,” Bruce answers, hands slipping down the front of Jeremiah’s suit jacket to undo the buttons. “You know I think about you all the time, Jeremiah, this shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“It’s not.” The suit jacket slips down Jeremiah’s arms, and Bruce takes the time to carefully fold it over the back of a chair. Jeremiah is as absolutely besotted with him as ever. “It’s just very nice to hear you say it.”

“I think about you all the time Miah,” Bruce says obligingly, lifting up on his toes and pressing his smile against Jeremiah’s mouth. “When I’m alone, when I’m surrounded by other people, when I’m here.” He untucks Jeremiah’s dress shirt from his pants. “When I’m at home, when I’m in bed.” He pushes against Jeremiah’s shoulders, guiding him backwards. “I think about holding your hand, and kissing you, and wrapping my arms around you, and—” He presses a kiss to Jeremiah’s neck. “And touching you.”

“What else?” Jeremiah asks, excitement curling in his gut as he’s pushed against his desk.

“I think about how much you love making me feel good.” His voice wavers a little, but he bravely continues on. Jeremiah watches in rapt fascination as Bruce draws closer, resting his head against Jeremiah’s shoulder in a way that makes Jeremiah’s heart feel full. “I think about how you look at me whenever your hands or mouth is on me.” He breathes in a shuddering breath. He lays his hands on Jeremiah’s waist. “And I think about how much I want to respond in kind.”

“It’s not a competition, you know,” Jeremiah answers softly as his hands find a place on Bruce’s back.

“I know.” Bruce stares up into Jeremiah eyes determinedly, as if daring him to tell Bruce to stop. As if Jeremiah would ever tell Bruce to stop anything. Jeremiah thinks he can be very versatile, whenever Bruce is involved. Jeremiah knows that things that had never interested him before could be devastatingly arousing, whenever Bruce is involved. “But I still want to, Miah. So much that sometimes it makes me feel like doing something drastic.”

“Like locking us inside of my office so that you can do whatever you please with me?” Jeremiah prompts. Bruce flushes, but he doesn’t look away.

“When I locked us in here it was mostly because I wanted to kiss you for ten to fifteen minutes without worrying about an interruption,” he mumbles. “We’ve both been really busy this week. I’ve missed you,” he finishes, so earnest that Jeremiah’s already-full heart feels ready to burst.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he says, darting down to press a kiss to Bruce’s forehead. “I’m so glad tomorrow is Friday. I’ve found a new recipe for us to make for date night.”

“Jeremiah.” Bruce’s hands press more firmly against his waist. He tilts his chin up. “After dinner tomorrow, will you come over and spend the weekend with me?”

“I’m all yours,” Jeremiah vows, leaning down with a smile.

Kissing Bruce is as fantastic as it always is, and there’s a curious spark lighting up inside of Jeremiah at the way Bruce has boxed him in against the desk. A lot of times Jeremiah tended to be the one doing the pinning—in Bruce’s bed, in his bed, against his kitchen counter—but he doesn’t mind the way Bruce is pressing up against him, pushing a thigh between Jeremiah’s legs.

“Oh,” Jeremiah exhales sharply against Bruce’s mouth, “if you keep that up I don’t think this will turn out to be only ten to fifteen minutes of kissing.”

If Bruce keeps that up Jeremiah will be prompted to do something drastic himself. Stars above, he’s missed Bruce. They were both so committed to their work, which was great, except sometimes they weren’t working on the same component of a project at the same time and Bruce’s role at Wayne Enterprises dragged him away from his office at home. So Jeremiah would be working alone in his bunker, and Bruce would be flitting around Wayne Enterprises’ lab to check on everyone’s progress while somehow managing to complete his own tasks, and occasionally there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to fit in an in-person visit without someone’s sleep schedule suffering for it. Even though they spoke to each other on the phone during their breaks and before going to bed, it wasn’t the same as having that time face to face.

If they actually lived together, maybe then they’d—

“Sorry.” Bruce withdraws his thigh. “I’ll save that for date night.”

“Promises, promises,” Jeremiah says happily between kisses. 

Bruce always keeps his promises.

x-x-x

Bruce tries very hard to keep his promises, especially the ones that he makes to Jeremiah. 

Which is why after dinner he’s the one settling his hands along the counter on either side of Jeremiah, and why after a few minutes of feverish kissing he’s slipping his leg between Jeremiah’s thighs. 

Jeremiah makes a startled sound against his mouth, but then he’s wrapping his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and pulling him even closer, so Bruce doesn’t even really have an opportunity to back away and ask him if what he was doing was alright, which was what Jeremiah usually did whenever things between them progressed past a certain point.

It was sweet, how much he cared about Bruce’s comfort.

It made Bruce’s thoughts race just a fast as his heartrate. 

He has _plans_ for date night. Plans that had maybe grown a little wild since he’d hardly been able to see Jeremiah during the week. Plans that made him feel wound tight, even when he hadn’t done anything yet.

Jeremiah’s lips part when Bruce grazes his tongue along the seam. Bruce shudders and presses even closer, his bony hip pressing against the firm line of Jeremiah’s cock. Jeremiah rocks against him, and Bruce would really like to continue in a place where they’re less likely to accidentally knock into a glass and have it shatter on the floor. 

His hands drift from the counter to grip Jeremiah’s hips, and Jeremiah makes a very interesting sound against Bruce’s lips before Bruce draws back.

“Can I take you to bed?”

A smile slowly breaks out on Jeremiah’s mouth, and Jeremiah lifts his hands to either side of Bruce’s face.

“Of course you can,” he says, darting forward to press another kiss to Bruce’s mouth. “You can take me anywhere.”

Bruce feels himself flush at the insinuation, but he doesn’t allow himself to falter. He grabs onto one of Jeremiah’s hands as he turns, and Jeremiah follows after him without any prompting.

They reach Jeremiah’s bedroom, kicking off their shoes in the hallway before they even reach the door, and they strip each other of their shirts before they’ve made it halfway to the bed. By the time Jeremiah’s legs brush against his mattress Bruce’s hands have already unfastened his belt, and he presses a kiss to the crook of Jeremiah’s neck as he undoes the button and zipper of his trousers. He allows his fingertip to graze against Jeremiah’s cock, his own blood pooling hot and low at the undeniable reminder that Jeremiah _wanted_ him so much, and Jeremiah presses wild, messy kisses along whatever parts of Bruce’s face he can reach as Bruce determinedly pulls everything down. Jeremiah steps out of it, and he’s bare, and Bruce wants to _see him_.

It’s not the first time that they’ll be naked in front of each other. But this is the first time it’s not in the moonlit murkiness of his bedroom or with only Jeremiah’s dim blue lights on.

“I want to look at you,” he says sweetly, turning his face so that Jeremiah’s kisses can finally fall upon his lips. Jeremiah’s hands scrabble against the waist of his own pants.

“You too,” Jeremiah whispers against him mouth. “I want to see you.”

In less than half a minute Bruce is bare, too, and he steps back so that they can get a better look at each other.

Jeremiah’s eyes are wide behind his glasses, pupils blown as he looks Bruce up and down. His cheeks are charmingly flushed, but the darkened head of his cock is what Bruce’s eyes eventually focus on. 

Bruce has seen him before, but never so clearly.

“Sit down,” he urges, “please?”

Jeremiah does so, hands curling into anxious fists on top of his thighs. Bruce wonders if Jeremiah wants to touch him, wonders how much control it’s taking for him to not reach out and instead go along with what it is that Bruce wants.

Bruce steps forward again, moving into the narrow space between Jeremiah’s legs. He cups Jeremiah’s face in his hands and leans down to kiss him. One hand drops, nails lightly scratching down his chest, purposefully trailing overtop of a nipple because Bruce loves the way it makes Jeremiah’s breath hitch. Bruce’s knees begin to bend, and as he starts to kneel Jeremiah’s legs spread further apart to give him room to settle, until eventually Jeremiah is the one leaning over in order to continue the kiss.

Jeremiah’s hands flutter against Bruce’s shoulders and Bruce breaks away with a soft, pleased sigh. His palms settle against Jeremiah thighs, gently rubbing circles against his skin.

“Jeremiah, I want to—” He pauses, flushing. He was a little shyer than Jeremiah when it came to speaking outright about anything sexual. Though, admittedly, that might be because once Jeremiah knew that he was able to say whatever crossed his mind to Bruce he couldn’t seem to hold anything back. Not that Bruce minds. He likes listening to everything that Jeremiah feels the urge to tell him, he likes the sound of Jeremiah’s voice washing over him, he likes watching the shape of his mouth and the spark in his eyes as he divulges things to Bruce that are far too intimate to be shared with anyone else. He steels himself. “I want to suck your cock.”

He’d tried it once, a few weeks ago, because during the handful of times that Jeremiah had done it to him he seemed to enjoy it so much that Bruce had been sure he would like it, too. 

And he had.

At first Jeremiah had praised him and gently run a hand through his hair as Bruce made a terrible mess of himself, gaging and choking, saliva dripping down his chin. He’d felt amateurish and embarrassed each time he had to move back to take a much-needed breath, but he’d also been almost painfully aroused as words about how beautiful Bruce looked and how perfect he was began stumbling, repetitively and inelegantly, out of Jeremiah’s mouth while his hands had begun to wind tighter in his curls. The longer Bruce had his mouth around him the more he seemed to unravel, and even if Bruce was all open-mouthed willingness with no actual technique Jeremiah had come, quickly and breathlessly, across Bruce’s swollen lips and chin.

He’d looked so handsome, so relaxed in the aftermath. Bruce, hard and aching from the act of pleasing him, had wished he’d thought to touch himself so that they could have come together—he thought there was something romantic about the notion of it, though he’d never told Jeremiah as such. But then Jeremiah had very eagerly flipped their positions and done it to him, almost managing to swallow Bruce down to the root, and making eager, needy sounds as Bruce’s hands dug into his hair. It hadn’t been very long at all until Bruce had come, legs trembling as he called out Jeremiah’s name until his voice was hoarse. 

Jeremiah looks down at him, adoring in a way that Bruce will probably never get over, and one of his hands threads gently into Bruce’s hair. 

“I’m all yours,” he says lowly, and Bruce presses kisses to the insides of his thighs before he reaches out to wrap his fingers lightly around the base of his cock. He strokes it a few times, working up his nerve. It feels different to do this in a room that’s well-lit, but that’s what Bruce had wanted.

He wants to see, and to be seen. He doesn’t want to always be fumbling around in the dark.

He leans in, pressing kisses against Jeremiah’s hipbone, into his coarse hair, and then his lips drag up the hot flesh of his cock. He glances up from underneath his eyelashes, and Jeremiah’s gaze is hot and heavy and makes Bruce blush even more than the knowledge of what he’s about to do.

“Will you talk to me?” He requests softly, mouth brushing against the head. “Like last time?” 

“Anything you want, Bruce.” Jeremiah promises him, voice somewhat raspy. “All you ever have to do is ask.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, and Jeremiah makes a strangled sound as his fingers dig a little tighter into his hair before Bruce even gets properly started.

Bruce files that away in a tidy little mental folder that he’s unimaginatively labeled ‘things that turn Jeremiah on’ before he opens his mouth, tongue skimming past his lower lip and dragging against the skin that his lips had brushed. By the time he actually takes Jeremiah into his mouth his hand has dropped from Jeremiah’s other thigh so that he can rub his palm against himself.

He’s just as amateurish as last time but he’s less embarrassed, now, because it is difficult to reach that previous level of first-time, fumbling mortification when he knows just how much Jeremiah likes it despite the inexperience and overall lack of finesse. Jeremiah’s hands curl into his hair, and he jerks unsteadily like he cannot for the life of him keep still, and he says things like “I love you” and “you’re gorgeous” and “you’re doing so well” and “I’m going to take such good care of you after this”.

Bruce’s breath hitches at the unmistakable reverence in Jeremiah’s tone. He feels a flush break out over his cheeks. He stops idly grinding against his palm and wraps his fingers around himself instead. His hand follows the same rhythm as his mouth, slow—slower than he’d like, really—but he feels feverish and uncoordinated and too full to go any faster.

Jeremiah’s fingers tug—probably without him really meaning to, probably because Bruce is winding him up enough that he’s starting to lose control—and Bruce makes a garbled noise around him, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks briefly before he looks up again.

“Bruce,” Jeremiah rasps, his gaze flittering down and up and back down again. His hands shake as they disentangle from Bruce’s hair. “Are you—are you touching yourself?”

Bruce pulls away and, feeling increasingly bold at the hazy look in Jeremiah’s nearly black eyes, sits back on his heels so that Jeremiah can see for himself.

The noise Jeremiah makes in response to what he sees—Bruce isn’t even sure how to classify it, not a whine or a growl, but wild and needy enough that it made his blood rush—makes him twitch in his hand, slick precum oozing onto his fingers.

“Bruce,” he says, and he makes his name sound like a plea. He reaches out, and Bruce allows himself to be caught, to be pulled forward, to be directed. His free hand wraps around the base again and his mouth eagerly falls open and Jeremiah makes _that sound_ again. “Bruce.” His hips jerk up, like he can’t help it, and even though Bruce has to fight for breath he stubbornly doesn’t pull away. “You’re so beautiful, so incredible. I want you so much, I want you all the time.”

Bruce moans, fingers wrapping tighter around himself as he lets Jeremiah shallowly fuck up through his fist and into his mouth. He wonders, dizzy and aching, what it would be like to take him all the way inside. Filling up his mouth—

He starts trembling, the already uncoordinated movements of his hand becoming messier, _slicker._ He can’t even make out what Jeremiah is telling him anymore.

Filling up his—

He comes with a whine, body jerking, feeling a strange mix of full and empty. Jeremiah’s fingers curl into his hair even tighter and the taste of him floods Bruce’s mouth while he’s still shaking with aftershocks. Bruce belatedly starts to swallow but warm spunk drips out of his mouth, onto his thighs, onto his softening cock. When Bruce leans back he stares up at Jeremiah, at the naked love and devotion glimmering in his eyes. He licks his lower lip and feels intoxicated by the strength of the love that he feels. 

“Jeremiah,” he whispers, voice rough. “I love you.” 

Jeremiah’s hands cup his face, guide him upwards, pull him into a series of slick, open mouthed kisses.

“I love you so much,” Jeremiah tells him between each kiss. “Love you so much.”

Bruce lays his hands on Jeremiah’s thighs and kisses back just as eagerly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wants to try something new, and Jeremiah is more than happy to indulge him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I've missed writing these guys.

Bruce has been thinking about it for a while, even before that one memorable night where Jeremiah opened up his overnight bag to pull something out and a pack of condoms had fallen onto Bruce’s bed and Jeremiah had—red and stuttering; so adorable—quickly explained that he had definitely not put them there and he definitely would never do anything before Bruce was ready and he definitely would get rid of them.

He’d grabbed the condoms and his bag and left, flustered even after Bruce’s reassurances that he believed him, to change in the room that was technically his even if he never slept in it, and Bruce’s mind had slowly trailed over things that might be needed in the future, even if they weren’t needed in the present. 

He’s glad he had the forethought to start preparing early because he needs one of those things right now. 

“Miah,” he sighs between kisses, one hand sliding through Jeremiah’s hair, the other pressing against the curve of his spine. Jeremiah murmurs something back, too soft for Bruce to really hear, and his hips shift. Bruce’s legs twitch restlessly on either side of Jeremiah as their cocks slide together. He has to resist the urge to lock his ankles around Jeremiah and keep him close, because Bruce could come like that—Bruce _has_ come like that—rutting against Jeremiah and finding pleasure in the hard press of him, but he wants something _more_ tonight. “Miah, I want to ask you for something.”

That catches Jeremiah’s interest—he was also so eager to indulge any and all of Bruce’s desires—and he leans back slightly to look at Bruce’s face.

“What is it,” he asks lowly. A hand reaches down between them, and Bruce jolts at the feeling of Jeremiah’s hand wrapping around them both. “What do you want? All you ever have to do is ask, Bruce.”

Asking is usually the hardest part, but it’s very difficult to be embarrassed when Jeremiah’s looking down at him with such open adoration. Bruce shifts, trying not to wildly buck up into Jeremiah’s warm hand, and thinks about how much he wants Jeremiah, and how much Jeremiah wants him, and how well matched they are.

“I want you to finger me.”

He wants to have an idea of what it’s going to feel like when Jeremiah’s cock fills him up.

Jeremiah’s fingers twitch around them and his hips jerk. Bruce whines at the sensation of skin dragging against skin. 

“You will, won’t you? I have—” His heels dig into the bed, both of his hands dig into Jeremiah’s hair, Jeremiah is looking at him like Bruce is the only thing that matters in the world. “I have lube in my bedside table.”

“Yes,” Jeremiah answers, sounding as if he’s in a daze. “Yes, alright.” His fingers briefly tighten and Bruce bites his lip at the sudden, almost overwhelming constriction, but then his hands withdraws and his cock slides against Bruce’s hip as he leans over to dig into the drawer. He pauses for a moment, probably because he couldn’t help but catch sight of the other things Bruce had stashed away in there, just in case, but he does eventually grab the bottle and sits back on his heels. He fumbles with the cap briefly; over-eager, flushing, obviously just excited for this as Bruce was. His desire just turns Bruce on more; it makes him feel jittery and restless, it makes him want to please him. If Bruce weren’t so desperate to have Jeremiah’s fingers fill him up he’d happily flip them over to that he could suck Jeremiah into his mouth. Maybe he would, after.

He bites his lip again, eyelashes fluttering. 

After this, definitely. 

The cap opens and Jeremiah coats a few of his fingers, rubbing them together to take the edge of the chill off. Bruce spreads his legs wider and, although he does feel somewhat lewd for doing so, tilts his hips up.

Jeremiah makes a strangled, endearing noise. Bruce loves him so much.

“I love you so much,” he says, because he can’t keep the words back. He doesn’t want to keep the words back.

“I love you, too,” Jeremiah responds, voice heavily laden with feeling. A cool, slick finger drags along Bruce’s cleft, grazing over him in a way that makes his breath hitch. “I want to give you everything that you ask for, Bruce, you know that, right?”

“I do, I do.”

Jeremiah’s face flushes darker and his eyes glimmer with an emotion Bruce isn’t entirely sure he could put a name to. His finger glides a circle around Bruce without pressing in, a level of teasing that Jeremiah usually didn’t trouble himself with. He was very much someone who liked to get with the program whenever Bruce asked something specific of him.

“You do?”

“Yes, of course I do, Miah.”

Above him Jeremiah shudders, and Bruce wants to figure out what’s going on in his head but before he can his focus is overtaken by the feeling of Jeremiah’s fingertip sliding inside of him.

“Oh,” Bruce exhales softly, leg spreading wider. “Oh.”

“Does it feel okay?” Jeremiah draws partway out before pushing the tip back in. His eyes dart from Bruce’s face to his hand and back up. “Do you like it?”

“It’s different. Not bad, though.” Bruce shifts, reaching a hand up to the back of Jeremiah’s head to reel him in for even more kisses. He can feel Jeremiah’s finger begin to gently crook inside of him, testing the waters, before drawing back. It glides in again, a little further, and retreats. Again and again, just a little bit more every time. The sensation makes a curious new heat bubble under his skin, not necessarily because the slick drag of Jeremiah’s finger makes him feel full or overwhelmed, but because… “I—I like it. I like that you’re inside of me.”

“Bruce,” Jeremiah rasps, “you’ll drive me crazy if you say things like that.”

Bruce shifts, rocking his hips, biting his lower lip when Jeremiah makes a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” he says without meaning it, and Jeremiah absolutely is not fooled by him in the least. “But I do. I want you to—ahh—” He jerks, heart racing, as Jeremiah’s finger grazes against a sensitive spot. “There, Jeremiah, that was—” Jeremiah presses a kiss to his cheek and delves in again. “Right there, right there.” The fingertip lightly rubs against him, cautious, and Bruce has a fleeting thought that Jeremiah’s dexterous hands are going to be even more attractive to him after this. “You make me feel so good, Miah, in ways I’d never even thought about before you.”

“I love making you feel good.” Jeremiah punctuates his statement with a lingering kiss to Bruce’s mouth. “I love knowing that I can please you.” Another kiss. “I love you, Bruce.” Another kiss.

A second finger begins to slide in alongside the first. Bruce exhales shakily against Jeremiah’s mouth. 

“Is that alright? Is it too much?”

“It’s perfect,” Bruce promises, feeling a fluttery heat pooling inside of him at the additional stretch. “Keep going, I like it.”

Jeremiah slowly presses deeper, plying Bruce’s face with kisses all the while. Bruce’s heart races behind his ribs at the unhurried progression; it makes him feel remarkably as if he is being doted on in the most intimate way possible. Jeremiah’s fingers curl inside of him and a high, squeaky sound hurtles out of Bruce’s mouth before he can stop it. 

“There?” Jeremiah ask under his breath, and at Bruce’s silent nodding he circles his fingertips, watching Bruce’s expression intently. “Are you getting close?”

“I think so,” Bruce manages, breath gusting out of his lungs when Jeremiah’s other hand wraps around his cock. “Jeremiah, kiss me.”

Jeremiah leans into him, soft and lingering in a way that makes Bruce’s heart feel ready to burst, and when he retreats he goes back even further, shifting between Bruce’s open legs to take the head of his cock into his mouth and suck while his fingers press up _hard_ —

Bruce’s back arcs, his eyes clench shut, his muscles tense, he sees fireworks. He comes in Jeremiah’s mouth while impaled by his fingers. 

He goes slack. 

“Miah,” he says when he’s capable of speech again, looking down at Jeremiah’s fond expression and feeling utterly struck. “Not—not yet—” He’s not quite ready for everything yet. “But someday soon. I want you to—” He flushes and Jeremiah’s eyes spark. ‘Fuck’ is not exactly the word he would choose, here, and the other option seems sappy but Jeremiah would probably like it, so. “Make love to me.”

Jeremiah’s _face_. Bruce could look at him forever.

“Whenever—whenever you’re ready, Bruce,” Jeremiah says lowly. “I love everything that we do together. Take all the time you need.” He presses kisses to the insides of Bruce’s thighs, and Bruce reaches down to trail a hand through his hair.

“I love you so much,” Bruce tells him softly, then, “You made me feel so good, Miah. Lay back. I want to make you feel good, too.”

“Would you—” Jeremiah’s eyes dart back up at him, pupils blown. “If you want to, of course, would you finger me, too? I want to feel what it’s like. I want you.”

“Of course,” Bruce promises, blood rushing anew. “Of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Jeremiah’s birthday. Bruce gifts him a pair of champagne flutes, the coffee beans that he likes most, and a box full of games—sentimental little things to remind him of the time they’d spent together which had accelerated their confessions and their relationship.
> 
> But he’s got something else planned for them, too. 
> 
> (AKA Birthday Sex Round 1: Top[ping from the bottom] Jeremiah Edition)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this it occurred to me that I think this might be the first time I've written protected sex in this fandom??? Have I just been writing about Bruce getting rawed all the time??? I mean, it kind of goes hand in hand with the usual brand of Valeska Possessive Behaviour that I write I guess but alkskaslal--
> 
> Anyways! Writing these two being so utterly in love waters my crops and clears my skin, so this is probably the exact kind of _saccharine_ content that I tend to write for them in this 'verse which I am sure you have all come to expect from me by now. <3

“You’re so sweet,” Jeremiah says for the hundredth time since opening up his birthday presents from Bruce. “I didn’t expect you to forget about the champagne flutes, but still, that and everything else together... I feel like I’m still falling in love with you a little more every day.”

“Funny, you make me feel the exact same way,” Bruce says, leaning against him until Jeremiah’s arm comes up to wrap around his shoulders. Bruce feels excited and nervous and like he could run ten miles. They’re alone in the bunker, and they’re going to bed, and Bruce had packed his overnight bag with some of the things from his bedside table because he loves Jeremiah and he wants Jeremiah and he needs Jeremiah.

He’s ready. So, so ready. He’d even played with himself in the shower before driving over to get the ball rolling, not that he thinks Jeremiah is going to rush once Bruce tells him what he wants. Jeremiah would take his time even if Bruce was already wet and open for him. But Bruce had needed to take the edge off somehow. Plus, Bruce wants to see what Jeremiah’s face looks like when he discovers that Bruce wants him so badly that he’d gotten started early. 

He’ll be wonderstruck, probably, and then he’ll most likely ask to watch the next time Bruce touches himself. He’d be enraptured by it; watching Bruce work towards going three fingers deep. The very idea of it makes Bruce shudder.

Jeremiah’s arm closes tighter around him, perhaps mistaking Bruce’s shivering for a chill, and Bruce loves him so, so much he almost can’t believe the strength behind it.

Jeremiah opens the door to his bedroom. He turns to press a kiss to Bruce’s temple. Afterwards he starts to draw back but Bruce takes Jeremiah’s face between his hands and leads him back in. Jeremiah follows the wordless direction with a smile, and Bruce sighs happily against his mouth.

“Jeremiah,” he starts softly. “I’m ready.”

Jeremiah makes a soft, inquisitive sound. “Ready for what, darling?”

“Ready for everything. Ready for you.” Bruce’s hands slip between them to fist into Jeremiah’s button down. “Ready to make love,” he finishes in a whisper. “As long as you’re ready for it, too.”

Jeremiah exhales shakily.

“You’re sure?”

“I am.” Bruce leans up on his toes to press a kiss to Jeremiah’s cheek. “I love you, Miah.”

Jeremiah holds him. Jeremiah kisses him. Jeremiah leads him into bed. They take off each other’s clothes, slow and steady, a familiar process that is no less intimate for the fact that it has become commonplace. They kiss newly bared skin and smiling mouths, they drag fingers over muscle and into hair, Jeremiah’s fingers graze over Bruce’s ribs and Bruce laughs softly against his mouth. Then Jeremiah’s fingers dip below the waistband of his underwear to cup his ass and Bruce feels himself go hot.

Their touches become more intent, then. Playful but with an additional, eager edge as they strip each other completely bare and intertwine together; chest to chest, legs slipping between legs, hands roving over backs and shoulders. Jeremiah’s kisses are wet and lingering in a way that makes Bruce’ heart pound, and he murmurs sweet nothings between each one like he just can’t help himself. 

Bruce shifts, rolling to be over top of him, and Jeremiah accepts the motion with an ease that lights a fire underneath Bruce’s skin. Bruce sits up, legs astride Jeremiah’s hips, and he reaches over to dig into his overnight bag on the bedside table to pull out a familiar bottle and a condom. 

The cap opens with a soft pop. Jeremiah’s fingers dig into his thighs. Bruce leans down to kiss him while slicking up two of his own fingers. He sets the bottle aside and raises up on his knees, watching Jeremiah watch him as he reaches down, down, slowly pushing both inside of himself. A few hours have passed since he showered so it’s not exactly an easy stretch, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Jeremiah stares up at him as if Bruce has done something spectacular. 

Wonderstruck, just like Bruce had thought he would be.

“I was thinking about you before I drove over,” Bruce tells him, delving deeper. “I was thinking about how much I want you.”

“Bruce.” Jeremiah’s hands dig into his hair. “Bruce.” Jeremiah guides him down. “I love you.” One hands stays threaded into Bruce’s hair as Jeremiah kisses him and the other fumbles to grab the bottle that Bruce had set aside. 

Bruce’s hand withdraws to brace his weight against the bed, and Jeremiah’s hands work between them as he coats his own fingers. Bruce peppers kisses along his jaw and over his cheekbones as the first of Jeremiah’s fingers breaches him, he exhales shakily at the addition of the second.

“It’s good, Miah,” he assures before Jeremiah has a chance to ask. He rocks down onto his fingers and Jeremiah inhales sharply. “Is this—is this position okay for you? Are you comfortable?”

Jeremiah crooks his fingers and Bruce jerks.

“It’s perfect,” Jeremiah says lowly. “Is this how you want it?”

Bruce nods, and Jeremiah leans up to press a kiss to his chin. 

“It’s perfect,” he says again.

Jeremiah is nothing if not thorough, so by the time three of his own fingers are gliding comfortably inside Bruce feels adored and needy in equal measure. They are not kissing so much as breathing against each other’s mouths, the both of them too focused on the careful progression to maintain a consistent level of skill in the brushing of their lips. It is gentle and loving and attentive, it is everything that is good. It makes Bruce heart trip behind his ribs and he’s sure, so, so sure, that the rhythm of Jeremiah’s heart matches his beat for beat. 

“Jeremiah,” he breathes, “I’m ready.”

Jeremiah’s fingers slip out of him. Bruce shifts over him. Jeremiah’s hands briefly fumble with the packet before he’s slipping the condom on. Bruce reaches behind himself to help line the head of Jeremiah’s cock up with his hole, and he watches Jeremiah’s eyelashes flutter at the touch of his hand. He reaches out with his free hand and Jeremiah meets him in the middle, their fingers interlocking tightly. 

“I love you,” they say, words blurred together, offset from each other by a mere second.

Bruce beings to sink.

Slow, slow, steady. Occasionally pausing and shifting. He bites his lip and squeezes Jeremiah’s hand, not out of pain but at the staggering intimacy of the moment. Jeremiah is looking up at him with a soft, dreamy gaze. He takes their intertwined hands and lifts them up so that he can lay a kiss against Bruce’s fingers. Jeremiah murmurs something adoring against Bruce’s hand, Jeremiah is trembling beneath him from the effort to lay still and let Bruce go at his own pace, Jeremiah is hot and hard and feels so good.

Bruce’s breaths have reduced to soft, shallow pants by the time he’s fully seated. His mind is buzzing, his heart is racing, below him Jeremiah is grounding and perfect and everything that Bruce already knows that he is. Their eyes stay locked together as Bruce executes a shallow, gentle rock.

Jeremiah’s fingers squeeze his. Jeremiah’s body jolts before settling. Jeremiah reaches up with his free hand to cup the side of Bruce’s face and Bruce leans into his palm as he rocks again, again, the motion becoming firmer with each successive movement.

“You can move too, you know,” he manages to say, sounding breathless. “I want you to, Miah. I want to feel you even more.”

“Bruce.” Jeremiah’s hand guides him down and Bruce happily follows. Jeremiah plants kisses across the line of his mouth and Bruce lifts his hips up a few inches, shuddering at the slight friction, and Jeremiah pants against his mouth as he descends, his own hips lifting sharply. Bruce’s breath catches in his throat as skin meets skin with a muted smack. He braces his free hand against the bed and lifts up again. 

It starts unhurried, rising and falling together at a fixed pace, but confidence and desire and want spark inside of them both and brings swiftness to their movement. Jeremiah’s free hand roves Bruce’s body, his face and hair and chest and thigh before settling for a brief moment on his hip, gripping at Bruce as if to guide him down faster as Jeremiah drives up hard. Bruce leans into him, their foreheads brushing, and he cries out when, on his next upward thrust, Jeremiah’s hand wraps around his cock.

“It’s good, it’s good,” Bruce says, legs beginning to feel weak. His riding devolves into the rocking from before, though faster and harder, lifting up slightly not with his own effort but with the movement of Jeremiah’s body beneath him. “You’re making me feel so good.”

“Bruce,” Jeremiah whispers urgently. “Kiss me.”

Bruce holds his hand and kisses him and comes, rocking into Jeremiah’s fist and onto his cock with as much impassioned grace as he can muster. They’re still kissing when Jeremiah’s thrusting goes from quick and shallow to quicker and deep, driving inside of Bruce and gasping against his mouth in a way that makes his skin spark. They’re still kissing when they feel themselves go slack. They’re still kissing when Bruce twists to be settled on the bed beside Jeremiah. They’re still kissing and they’re still holding hands and everything feels absolutely without fault.

They break apart only to whisper their ‘I love you’s.

Then they lean into each other again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only is it Bruce’s nineteenth birthday, it’s also the one-year anniversary of the day that they met. Clearly Jeremiah has to do something about it.
> 
> (AKA Birthday Sex Round 2: Top Bruce Edition)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

“How do you want me,” Jeremiah asks lowly, skin sparking at the feeling of Bruce’s cock dragging against the inside of his thigh. He spreads his legs wider, hands settling low on the curve of Bruce’s spine. 

“Just like this,” Bruce whispers back. “If that’s okay.”

“Yes, yes, it’s perfect.” Jeremiah loves making love, but he loves it best when they can see each other’s faces. “I’m ready, Bruce.”

Bruce is slow and gentle and careful—just like Jeremiah had known he would be, he was always so tender with Jeremiah, even before they got together—he presses soft kisses on Jeremiah’s mouth and runs a hand through Jeremiah’s hair. They’re so wrapped up in each other that it makes him feel like they’re the only people left in the world, and he finds that he doesn’t mind forgetting—for an hour or two—that beyond the walls of Bruce’s bedroom life is continuing on as if nothing is out of the ordinary. 

Jeremiah’s breath hitches when Bruce’s pelvis finally brushes against him, Bruce’s hips snug inside the cradle of his thighs.

“Are you okay?”

Jeremiah’s fingers press firmly against his back. 

“I’m fine.” He pulls Bruce tighter against him, as if to tug him closer, deeper. “You can move.”

Bruce’s hips draw back, and the drag of Bruce’s skin against his own sends pleasant shocks through him. Bruce pushes in again, slow and careful, breathing heavily against Jeremiah’s face. His eyes are loving and resolute, his touch is soft. Jeremiah tilts up his chin to kiss him again, slotting his tongue through the split of Bruce’s lips and the opening of his teeth to lick at the roof of his mouth. Above him Bruce shudders, and his touch becomes firm before going soft again. He wants so badly to be gentle, and Jeremiah loves him for it. And Jeremiah loves the gentleness.

But Jeremiah also loves the rare moments when Bruce’s grip on his hips is incredibly tight, the moments where he is the one being pinned, the moments where he remembers just how strong and fast and agile Bruce can be.

Bruce retreats, advances, retreats, advances, slow gaining speed but still so, so tender. Jeremiah tucks his face into Bruce’s shoulder to hide how his eyes have started to gloss over from emotion, because he doesn’t want this to stop, not even for a handful of seconds, not even for Bruce to ask if he’s alright. He’s good, he’s great, he has everything he wants.

And he knows if he asks for more Bruce will give it to him. 

“Bruce,” he pants against Bruce’s skin. “Harder, I can take it.”

He wants to feel this lingering afterwards, for as long as possible.

“Okay,” Bruce says under his breath, voice rough. “Tell me if it’s too much, tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I will, I promise.”

It won’t be too much. He won’t need Bruce to stop. He wants it, he wants it, he wants it. 

Bruce drives into him and Jeremiah’s legs fold around him, a sharp gasp falling from his mouth as Bruce does it again, again, again. Jeremiah starts babbling, he can never seem to stop talking when it comes to being intimate with Bruce, and although he can’t always be entirely sure what he’s saying he knows the words are honeyed on his tongue, because Bruce was all sweetness and deserved equal sweetness in return. 

“Bruce.” His hands drag up Bruce’s spine, splaying out on his shoulder blades. Bruce rocks into him and Jeremiah’s back arcs off the bed, legs jerking before folding tighter, hands locking behind Bruce’s neck. It’s so good, and he knew that it would be. Of course Bruce would be perfect for him, they were meant for each other, of course he would be. “Harder, faster,” he asks, knowing that Bruce will do as requested. They were both well-aware that Jeremiah wasn’t made of glass.

Bruce kisses him, it’s sloppy and wet and it makes Jeremiah feel faint because he knows that Bruce is losing his cool because of him, and one of his hands settles underneath one of Jeremiah’s thighs, pushing his leg just a little higher, just a little wider, before he delves in forcefully enough that the air is punched out of Jeremiah’s lungs. 

“Yes,” Jeremiah says, “like that, just like that, Bruce.”

“Miah.” Bruce’s fingers dig into the skin of his thigh and Jeremiah wonders, burning hot and aching, if he’d ever hold him hard enough to bruise. “I love you.”

Jeremiah’s chest is tight and his pulse is fluttering and of course he says it back, over and over as he winds tighter and tighter. He presses his face into the crook of Bruce’s neck again because he can feel his eyes stinging from happiness and pleasure and imminent gratification. His limbs lock around Bruce and reel him inward, inward, and Bruce curls over him and whispers Jeremiah’s name like a prayer. He’s close, Jeremiah tell by the hitch in his breathing. Jeremiah is close, too.

His heels dig against Bruce as he rocks up, matching Bruce’s urgent motions with his own. They wrap around each other, in and out of each other; close and intimate and beyond compare. Jeremiah feels the pressure begin to swiftly build and he hauls Bruce in as tightly as he can, grinding down onto his cock and up against the firm muscle of his abdomen. 

Bruce grits out his name as his thrusts devolve into something haphazard and spectacular as he starts to come. Bruce grips his hips so tight that Jeremiah is sure he’s going to leave marks. The thought of it is enough to push him over the edge and he shudders as he spills, leaving a mark of his own at the crook of Bruce’s neck. 

Afterwards, as they lay entwined together on their sides, he sees the pink imprints of Bruce’s fingers on himself and the red imprints of his teeth on Bruce’s skin. He’s so flooded by endearment at the sight that he pins Bruce beneath him and asks—or maybe begs—to suck another, starker mark onto his throat.

Bruce’s hands settle on his back and he arcs his neck in offering. 

“Of course, Miah,” he says, and Jeremiah can hear the unsaid ‘I love you’.

I never want this to end, Jeremiah thinks, I want to be with you forever.

“I love you so much, Bruce.” 

Jeremiah leans into him and thinks about the future.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy ‘we’re engaged’ sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

“Jeremiah.” Bruce cups Jeremiah’s face in his hands. Jeremiah can feel the faint press of the metal of Bruce’s engagement ring against his cheek and it leaves him pleasantly dizzy. Bruce kisses him again—under his eyes and on his cheeks and all across the line of his mouth—and Jeremiah’s fingers entwine deeper into Bruce’s hair with each successive brush of lips. “Miah.” 

“Bruce,” the name falls from his mouth, reverent as a prayer. “I love you so much.” Jeremiah pulls back, but only so that he can gaze upon him. Underneath him Bruce is completely bare. Unreservedly stripped.

Of everything except for his engagement ring. 

The gleam of metal on his finger is the greatest kind of catalyst; Jeremiah’s mind spins and his heart races and his breath hitches at the sight of it. Everything but Bruce falls into insignificance, eradicated in the wake of Jeremiah’s single-minded focus. To behold him is the greatest gift, the greatest intimacy, and Jeremiah is already hard at work committing this moment to memory.

His ring on Bruce’s finger. Bruce smiling up at him. Bruce’s eyes lined in pink from the happy tears that he’d shed while they were knelt on the floor together.

He leans into Bruce like it is the most natural thing in the world; Bruce’s knees bracket his hips, his arms circle around his neck, his mouth presses tenderly against Jeremiah’s cheek and jaw as Jeremiah sinks into him.

Bruce’s fingertips pressing against him, Bruce’s lips sliding over his own, Bruce murmuring his name as his legs on either side of Jeremiah shift, heels digging into the bed as they move in tandem. It’s gentle and heartfelt; like their first time all over again, at least until Bruce sucks a mark onto his neck—high enough that none of Jeremiah’s shirt collars will be able to hide it—and Jeremiah shudders over top of him, toes curling. Bruce drags his tongue over the skin when he’s done, and they kiss, and Jeremiah feels himself wind tighter and tighter as Bruce sighs contentedly against his mouth. Jeremiah lays kisses upon his lips and jaw, down his neck, his teeth skim against Bruce’s shoulder and underneath him Bruce arcs.

“Jeremiah,” he whispers, voice soft. One of his hands drags up to thread through Jeremiah’s hair. “It’s okay, I want you to.”

Jeremiah attentively bites the flesh laid before his mouth and sucks just hard enough that he knows he’ll leave a bruise. His teeth skim up Bruce’s neck to the underside of his jaw, higher than even the collar of one of his turtlenecks will cover, and Bruce graciously tilts his head to the side so that Jeremiah can leave another mark there, too.

Underneath him Bruce’s breath catches and the rocking of his hips devolves into an unsteady, shallow motion. His legs begin to quiver as his muscles go tense. 

“Miah, kiss me.”

Their hands link together. Jeremiah can feel the ring press against him as he leans in to kiss Bruce again, again, again. His mind spins and his heart flutters and the building pressure inside of him releases. He grinds against Bruce as he comes, and he can feel Bruce tremble and tense underneath him until he begins to go slack. Jeremiah takes their interlocked hands and he guides Bruce’s left hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the metal of the ring.

“I love you, Bruce.”

“I love you too,” Bruce tells him, hushed. His fingers grip Jeremiah’s tight, like he can’t quite bear the idea of letting go of him just yet. Jeremiah can’t bear the idea of it, either. “We belong together. We belong to each other.” His free hand reaches up to graze against the side of Jeremiah’s face before trailing down, tracing against reddened skin that will eventually bruise. 

“It’s how we’re meant to be,” Jeremiah agrees, squeezing Bruce’s hand just as firmly in return. 

In an hour or two the weight of a ring will be gently slipped onto his own finger by the person who matters most. And then…

They’ll face a whole new beginning, side by side.

Jeremiah rests his free hand against Bruce’s face, and Bruce lays his own over top of it. They kiss, and they hold each other’s hands, and when Jeremiah catches sight of the ring on Bruce’s finger again—even though he’s been able to feel it all throughout their hand holding—an incredible gratification awakens within him. 

They belong to each other, and soon everyone will know it.


End file.
